The bell chimed, crisp and final.
Camille Dreyer's chair lifted smoothly, the low hum of the hover mechanism filling the quiet council room.
As she rose, she tapped once on her tablet.
A series of financial charts, cost projections, and payment logs appeared on the council members' screens. Simple graphs. Clean numbers. No clutter.
Base figures only.The simplest version of the truth.
Her chair glided forward along the invisible path to the central platform, stopping with precise alignment.
She stepped off, polished flats landing lightly, tailored trousers brushing neatly against her legs.
Her posture was flawless—shoulders back, chin slightly raised, the calm authority of someone accustomed to being listened to when numbers were involved.
She gave a small, professional bow. Then she began, her voice sharp and controlled.
"My name is Camille Dreyer. I am a Chief Financial Strategist and Certified Public Systems Accountant. I specialize in long-term infrastructure financing, post-crisis economic recovery, and multi-generational asset management. I was recruited by multiple national governments and private consortiums early in my career, but for the past eight years, I have served as the lead financial director for the Piao family's population stability programs. I am here to address the claim that the Male Protection Act is too expensive."
Her gaze moved to Harold Jin.
"You say this system is expensive. That is an interesting claim, especially for someone who has worked closely with government budgeting."
"In all your years working with government finance, have you ever seen a national budget allocation labeled Male Protection Act? Any annual funding report? Any international contribution ledger?"
She paused. The silence in the room answered for him.
"No. You have not. Because we have not received any."
She rested her hands lightly on the platform.
"The financial documents I have just sent to your screens contain base cost only. Base infrastructure. Base program maintenance. Base compensation. No expansion costs. No emergency surges. No research spikes. Base numbers only."
"Since the moment governments and other elite families withdrew from the male population initiative, every cost has been covered by the Piao family alone. Over seventy years, this base cost alone totals $879 billion."
"This is not a one-time expense. It is sustained investment."
She leaned slightly forward, measured and deliberate.
"Now, let us calculate what it would actually cost for any party to assume this system. Seventy years of funding—$879 billion—with compound interest at 5% annually for the first forty years and 10% annually for the remaining thirty years results in a total of approximately $113 trillion."
For the first time, the room visibly reacted.
Several members of the opposition went completely still.One man's pen stopped mid-sentence.Another leaned back slowly in his chair as if the number had physically pushed him.Someone else turned immediately to their screen, recalculating.
Harold felt heat rush up the back of his neck, rising into his face.$113 trillion.Even he had not expected the number to climb that high when compounded across seventy years.
Camille continued calmly.
"And that number is calculated as of this morning. It increases every day. Every facility we maintain. Every program we fund. Every compensated participant. The total continues to grow. By the hour, technically."
A few people in the chamber shifted at that.That was not a static number.That was a meter still running.
"So if the intention of this council is to assume control of the system, then the financial transfer would need to occur immediately, because the longer the delay, the higher the total repayment becomes."
"These are base numbers only. The full financial reality is significantly larger, but I did not think it was necessary to complicate the calculation for this discussion."
Her gaze moved across the room.
"To take control of this system without reimbursing what has already been invested is not merely impractical—it is impossible."
"You speak of efficiency and fiscal prudence. Yet the Piao family assumed full responsibility for a global initiative abandoned by others. Governments withdrew. Funding disappeared. Oversight vanished. The cost did not disappear. We carried it."
She straightened fully.
"If concern over expenses justifies intervention, then repayment is non-negotiable."
"Seventy years. $879 billion base cost. Compounded: $113 trillion. And rising."
"Responsibility is not transferred for free. It is either earned—or reimbursed."
She stepped back onto her hover chair.
It rose smoothly, carrying her along the invisible path back to her seat. The room remained quiet as she descended.
As she sat down, she exhaled softly and muttered, just loud enough for those nearby—and a few across the chamber—to hear,
"This is so stupid. They haven't paid a single cent and they're arguing about cost."
On the Piao side, two members immediately lowered their heads, pretending to review documents, shoulders tightening as they tried not to laugh.Another covered her mouth with her hand, eyes fixed firmly on her screen.
Grace, however, did not hide it.
A faint chuckle escaped her, quiet but unmistakable in the silent chamber.
She did not look at Camille, but there was a small, unmistakable curve at the corner of her lips.
This—precisely this—was why she kept Camille so close.
Brilliant, precise, and utterly unwilling to tolerate nonsense—professionally, of course.
Across the room, the opposition sat in stiff silence.Some were still staring at the number on their screens.Others were no longer looking at Camille at all, but at Harold.
The number had changed the balance of the room.
No one moved for several seconds.
They were all waiting for the next bell.